So a few years ago, this guy I knew went through a bad divorce and started screwing every 20 -something he could find on the internet. There were 20-somethings in his kitchen, lounging by the pool and upstairs in the bedroom. And they weren't friends of his teenage kids. Jesus, he was over 50. Did he realize why the girls were there? I know: typical man response, "Who cares?!" Listen, I would have been horrified to go down on a guy my dad's age when I was twenty-three. And the last one, the actress, she was only twenty-one.
"What are you doing?" I'd asked him when the twenty-one year old actress used his credit card without his permission to pay her rent.
"I just can't date women your age. Your skin," he'd shuddered and motioned around his neck, "it's like crepe paper."
"You do realize that I can hear you," I'd said.
And then gone into the bathroom to look my crepe paper neck.
This obsession we have with youth in our culture is insane. I know, nobody wants to die. So, I really don't have a choice about aging, unless I want to put my ass fat into my cheeks and wind up looking like almost every aging actress on Daytime TV. Like I'm wearing a Halloween mask of my own face.
Don't get me wrong, i would love to have my eyes done. They've been looking tired since I was seven. But even if I have the money, what would I be saying if I started torturing my face?
I guess what we women are all trained to say: there's something wrong with me.
I remember when I went back on Days of Our Lives a few years ago as my dead self because my son was drinking again, some fans were really mean. I'd been off of the show for over fifteen-years. How was I supposed to look like my dead twenty-seven year old self just because the writers called me a ghost? I was forty-five. Plus, I'd just had cervical spinal fusion surgery ten days prior. But I needed the dough to pay those medicals bills, so wardrobe taped a scarf to the bulging wound on my neck and I'd wobbled out onto the soundstage to say my five lines...legs shaking, hopped up on pain pills and swollen from the steroids.
"Staci Greason looks like time punched her in the face," some anonymous asshole tweeted.
I cried for days.
Getting older isn't for pussies.
Getting older is a gift. I'm going to write about it. If you want to share how you feel about your own natural aging process, I'd love to read about it!
But not if you're mean. If you're mean, then you have bigger issues. Take them to whatever place on the internet mean chicken shits post their mean shit.
Or get a barely legal girl and pay her rent.
I mean it.
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I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!